


cinderella, looking for a nightgown

by handschuhmaus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Incest, fluff and introspection, my take on the Gaunt family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:58:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handschuhmaus/pseuds/handschuhmaus
Summary: For once, the world is more or less actually kind to Merope Gaunt. It's not living in a fairytale, but it seems almost as unlikely.





	cinderella, looking for a nightgown

She remembers leaving the house in the middle of the night, but she doesn't remember anything after that until she wakes up in a cold sweat, bundled beneath sheets and comforter that smell of her sickness but nevertheless are cleaner than anything other cloth Merope has seen...

* * *

Confundus is not a restricted spell, but spells don't have to be restricted to be powerful or dangerous, especially if wielded by a deft hand, in desperation. Merlela Gaunt, neé Gaunt is both desperate and not half bad at the spell. It's an odd night for England, stifling and sticky, clouds blanketing the sky and promising rain, when she finally gets her nerve up to leave. It's been a month since she last miscarried, but there's no reason as such to the decision, only instinct.

Many years later, she will read about a fictional escape from the oppressive warren of Efrafa and feel deeply for the rabbits, for the does running. In the present, she wields her wand upon the man she married, out of some misplaced family loyalty, and confuses him into aiding her escape. She has a little money put by, and she's not going to take the children to a shelter. She's going to marry better, Marvolo Gaunt be damned. (It's not as if there is any mutual respect between the Gaunt patriarch and civil law. It technically isn't bigamy when the first man is "married" to you only through a magical ceremony, yes? And she's not looking for a wizard.)

Morfin tries to ask questions (Merope does not) and she toys a moment with the idea of leaving him behind; after all, he seems to take after most of the men in the family, namely, his father and paternal grandfather. Merlela decides later, on the train, that she takes after both her parents, and so did her sister, and in Gaunt eyes they're all the worse for it.

Marvolo is her first cousin, his mother her maternal aunt, and she hadn't thought it was a great idea for various reasons, but his father Hiram (also a cousin, otherwise, somehow), the aforementioned Gaunt patriarch, insisted on the match, on their making pure Slytherin babies. Her own mother, and Hiram's wife Meidathea were just a little too traditionalist to go against the match. Well, Aunt Meidathea was far too traditionalist, and had actually voiced (to Merlela only, thank Merlin) the possibility that went too far, that Merope and Morfin might be obliged to continue the line together.

The Gaunts had gotten a bit bizarre in these years, although Hiram and his wife were only one flavor. Merlela's great-great-uncle, the previous head of the family, had seen fit to do something likely prudent but decidedly bizarre, entrusting command of the family, his primary residence, the title, and the heirlooms to Hiram... but what sparse finances remained in trust, and the Scottish house to, of all people, Mortola, Hiram's sister-in-law and Merlela's mother. Maybe, speculated Marvolo, it was because Mortola was actually supposed to be Hiram's wife, and the old patriarch wanted her son to inherit those. 

Merlela was privately convinced it had been only sensible foresight. Somehow Mortola had contrived to instead marry Alec, a more distant cousin who was usually suspected of being weak-minded and, though it was looked upon less severely for that reason, something of a Muggle-lover. He was, in fact, barely prejudiced against Muggles, and Mortola had less against them than one might guess, though she would not acknowledge that.

Merlela had been sixteen when her mother's only son, a bastard half-blood, was born. Things hadn't gone entirely right (probably something to do with the fact that Mortola had been drunk six nights out of seven, those nine months) and her half-brother was, if you were being polite, not one of the sharper knives in the drawer. Mortola and Alec hushed things up and claimed he was a Squib when they said anything at all, although he wasn't. She was a woman of extremes and to all appearances a teetotaler the year after and since. 

What conclusion should be drawn from the fact that she had an affair with a muggle was not something Merlela cared to dwell on, but it seemed to run in this side of the family. Here was Merlela about to do it, and her sister had, and...she hasn't admitted to it, but Alec informed her he's but half blooded, his mother getting him from a muggle schoolmaster, and he doesn't think Mortola (nor, in fact, Meidathea) is properly pureblooded either.

Magic, even Parseltongue, seems stronger than they give it credit for...

* * *

There's a stuffed toy, no, two, on the bed beside her, a luxury Merope has never even contemplated, although she's not sure what the one is, and she wonders who had the idea of a velvety, plush pumpkin. 

"Hello, Munchkin," a strange voice says.

"I'm Merope, not Munchkin," Merope says in a very small voice.

He sighs melodramatically. "I can tell you're not familiar, then, with the works of L. Frank Baum."

"--what?" Merope asks, confused. It seems like a dream. How else could she wake up like this? 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Like I need a bath," she admits quietly.

"I think that can wait until your mother comes back, although I could bring you a damp cloth for your face. Would you like some water?"

"Mmm-mmm" she shakes her head. 

"You probably should, but it can wait. How about a hug from Mr. Octopus?"

"What's Mr. Octopus?" Merope asks, a little frightened. 

"Why, this is Mr. Octopus," and he picks up the as yet unidentified stuffed toy. "He has eight arms for four times the hugs."

The strange thing does have a friendly face sewed on it. Merope accepts two of the arms being draped around her shoulders in something like a hug, but decided to get a little more sleep--she feels so tired--while waiting for Mum to return.

* * *

Merope falls sick on the train. Fever and chills and aches and they need to find a room, get away from other passengers and the (admittedly smooth) steady movement of the train.


End file.
